Holding Hands
by Belen09
Summary: Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is going to his grandfather's funeral, and learns something about himself . . .


Holding Hands

This was the first story I ever wrote – over ten years ago . . . it does have a same-sex element but only a minor point – based on an actual incident . . . I did revise it a bit.

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Malcolm wasn't surprised when Trip said that he didn't want to go to Malcolm's grandfather's funeral. After all he'd never met the man, and given what Tucker had heard about Reed's family – well, Trip stated flat out that Malcolm didn't need the stress of explaining Tucker's presence to his relatives. Malcolm understood.

The problem was that Malcolm had 'been understanding' for years. Understanding when people said 'you can't do that'; understanding when people said 'you must do this'. Disappointed and frustrated, he still wasn't going to put all that pent up emotion on his love's refusal to attend the funeral with him. "Certainly," he said evenly, "I understand."

It was by chance that Malcolm was in orbit on Enterprise around Earth when his grandfather died. He wished that he could have seen the old gentleman before he passed on. The admiral was probably giving grief to some richly deserving individual in the afterlife. Malcolm smiled at the thought.

He arrived at the church about fifteen minutes before the service was due to begin, and was immediately struck by the notion that he had the knack of arriving at exactly the 'right' moment. His parents were arriving in one ground car, his grandmother in another by herself. And he was standing on the steps leading up to Saint Stephan's sanctuary.

'If I have any sense,' he managed to think, 'I will go inside right now.' But the Englishman remained watching as his parents exited their vehicle, and walked up the path; his grandmother standing at the junction of the parking area and a separate walkway.

His parents made no attempt to interact with his grandmother. 'Bloody Hell!' The normal thing for his parents to do would have been to greet his grandmother, to surround her in loving embrace, to hold her. But not these idiots. They stood like two statues, not moving, not wanting to make contact with someone in grief.

Malcolm walked down the steps to his grandmother. "Oh, Gran, Gran . . ." he said softly. The young man took her hand in his, feeling the cool, smooth touch of cotton gloves. She was old fashioned in her choice of fabric, in her style of clothing . . . Cotton, silk, wool, all first quality, impeccably tailored.

She turned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Malcolm gently placed one arm around her waist, could feel the frailty, a cotton blouse sliding on silk undergarments. He wished that he could give her courage, and instead felt like he had received some from her.

The admiral's wife, his lovely grandmother, smiled at him. "Dear, we really must go in."

Malcolm again glided his fingers down to her gloved hand, held tight. They walked hand in hand up the steps, in the sanctuary of the church. Neither of them even looked at Malcolm's parents as he guided her to the front pew by the altar.

Later he got a glimpse of his parents staring at him. He caught a snatch of conversation between them, something about him being not proper, too forward. Malcolm ignored them.

Back on the Enterprise, Malcolm greeted Trip with a fierce hug. "You know you missed a first-rate Royal Navy wake, Commander . . ." he remarked dryly. "It's not every day that you get to see admirals and captains make complete fools of themselves, not to mention the stories that I heard!" He planted a firm, passionate kiss on his love's lips, then quickly pulled away.

"Malcolm, I'm sorry – I just couldn't . . ." Trip attempted to apologize.

"No, it worked out for the best. It really did." Malcolm didn't elaborate. How could he explain to Trip that the experience he shared with his grandmother was theirs alone, and never would have happened with anyone else there, much less his Trip. He gripped his love's hand and brought it to his lips – a gentleman's kiss.

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End file.
